


Tommy Knows: "Dead To Rights"

by ThomE_Gemcity_06



Series: Eloquence of a Secret [16]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon-divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s1e16 - “Dead To Rights", Family Drama, Friendship, Gen, Secrets, Tommy Knows!, Tommy! in the Field, casework, relationship drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-17 00:39:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11264394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThomE_Gemcity_06/pseuds/ThomE_Gemcity_06
Summary: Tommy takes a leap of faith when Team Hood finds out his father is an assassin's target.





	Tommy Knows: "Dead To Rights"

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Arrow, its episodes or its characters.  
> Tag: Season 1, Episode 16 - "Dead To Rights"

****

 

**aRRoW**

"A toast." Tommy said, holding up his glass of Châteauneuf du Pape and looking around the dining table at the mansion, desert served. "To the best birthday in a very long time." He looked at Oliver, "I have my best-friend in life back, five-years worth of birthday wishes finally come true." Laurel, "To old friends again." Felicity with a wink, "To new ones I couldn't imagine getting on without." He looked to Moira and Thea, "And a place that I can easily call home." Everyone murmured cheers and drank. "And I don't know how I had lasted so long without Raisa's delicious cooking," he grinned.

"Now you get to make a new wish," Thea said.

Tommy leaned over his candles and his eyes flickered towards Felicity, "Sure do." And he blew. The last candle flame flickered out just as the doorbell rang.

"I wonder who that could be?" Moira wondered.

"Could that be your wish already?" the teen joked.

Tommy smiled, opening his mouth with a laugh when Raisa stepped in the dinning room door. "Mr Merlyn here to see you Mr Tommy."

Tommy's smiled thinned as Malcolm appeared behind the woman; he hadn't seen him nor spoke with him since that disaster of a dinner on the night of Thea's 18th birthday party. It seemed the man had a habit of crashing parties he wasn't invited to. "What are you doing here?"

"Happy birthday, son." He held out a bowed small blue box and when Tommy made no move to take it, set in on the corner of the table.

"Malcolm, why don't you join us?" Moira said politely. Tommy and Thea tensed at the invitation.

"I don't think he can stay, Moira." Tommy said before his father could.

"Thank you, Moira," Malcolm smiled. "But I can't."

"I'll walk you out." Tommy stood.

"Don’t worry," Malcolm followed him back into the foyer. "I know when I'm not wanted."

"That makes two of us." Tommy couldn't stop the utter.

Malcolm stopped and turned to him, forcing the younger man to stop. "Tommy. You're my son. I love you."

"You have a funny way of showing it."

"If it will allay the tension between us, I'll turn the switch back on."

Tommy scoffed. "Save your money, dad. I don't need it anymore."

"Mooching off your best-friend is no better than where you were when I cut you off."

"I'm not mooching off anybody." Tommy sneered. "The only money I've taken from Oliver is the money I'm paid for doing _my job._ You can leave now." Tommy turned but Malcolm grasped the inside of his bicep, pulling him close.

"The reason I came was because I'm being honoured by the Starling City Municipal Group. They're bestowing me with their Humanitarian Award."

"They run out of actual humans to give it to?" Tommy asked sarcastically, testing his father's iron grip. "Guess they never found out that you tried to get me to close mom's clinic."

Malcolm's jaw tightened briefly, along with his grip. "I would like it if you could be there." He tucked a thick stock and embroidered invitation into the inside of his jacket pocket. "You might not believe this, but all I ever wanted was for you to be happy."

"I'm 100% certain I'm busy that night."

"It would mean a lot to me,"

Tommy finally got his arm free and he stepped back. He straightened his jacket and glared at the man. "Sometimes the people you want there the most—aren't. You taught me that valuable lesson; multiple times." And he turned his back in clear dismissal, heading back towards the dinning room, not looking back, and hoping to salvage the rest of his birthday.

**...**

Tommy groaned as he flopped heavily on his back on Oliver bed without ceremony. Oliver had a driver take Laurel and Felicity home for the night and Tommy might have leaned into the alcohol a little heavier than he had intended after his father had left. But aside from that slight hiccup, the night had gone great.

"Just what I was hoping for," Oliver mused as he stepped from the en suite in a tee and plaid pants. "A blow-up Tommy doll."

"Now I know what to get you for your birthday."

"You okay, buddy?" Oliver asked, looking down at him from the foot of the bed. "Things got a little tense after your dad left."

"Trust my dad to run all the smiles out of the room." Tommy said. "The alcohol hasn't been very helpful, either, if you were wondering."

"You sulking on my bed like a two year old gave it away."

"I'll own it."

"Move over," Oliver smacked his foot.

Tommy turned on his side, tucking one of Oliver's pillows under his head. Oliver sat on the edge of the bed.

"I know things with your dad have always been tense," Oliver started, ignoring the rude snort, "But it seemed to me like he was trying. He came for your birthday--"

"Oh thank you father, for remembering your son's birthday!" Tommy mocked.

"He's tried to reach our before--"

"You mean that dinner, the one where his sole purpose had been trying to get me to sign my mother's clinic into closure?" Tommy stopped him. "And now they're giving him a Humanitarian Award! Those people have no idea."

"He's not making this easy," Oliver muttered, running fingers through his hair.

"I understand where you're coming from, Oliver. But it's different with my dad than it is yours.

"Even after you killed those red masks when you first came back. I was scared, but I was never scared _of_ you. The same when The Count dosed you with that pure form of Vertigo and you chocked me. Or Vanch. I never feared you. I know you would never hurt me.

"But my dad... putting aside the family-feels, the dadlike actions—Robert always acted more like a father to me. He took me to my first hockey game, my first R-rated movie, taught me how to fly-fish. Dad never did any of those things. Sure, he lived at home, kept the money flowing, bailed me out. In retrospect, I'd rather have none of it. He mimed the part of 'father', but he never acted like one.

"I don't know if you remember this or not, but after my mom was killed, after her funeral... he just left. In the middle of the night, he disappeared. For two-years he was gone. I spent either most of the time here or alone in that big house."

"He'd lost his wife," Oliver reasoned.

"And that just excuses him? He had a son, too. I was eight years old and I'd just lost my mother. He just left with some cheap words. I lost both my parents when my mom died."

Oliver exhaled softly. "My dad wasn't perfect either. He made mistakes, and I'm not just talking about the list. What he did to my mom, the same things I did to Laurel. I still hold so much anger towards him. But I would give anything to have him back... because at the end of the day, not matter what they've done, your dad is your dad."

"When he came back," Tommy said after a moment, voice sounding faraway as he remembered, "He was different. He was... he was so freaking _cold_ , Ollie. And when I was around him, sometimes, I'd just-- like some primal instinct thing-- be filled with this dread. And he wouldn't even be doing anything and it would just make my back sweat. When I got older, I learned to ignore it most of the time. But now... I don't even know anymore." He shook his head against the pillow despairingly.

"I'm sorry, Tommy." Oliver said quietly, laying on his back on the opposite side of the bed, fingers laced on his stomach, ankles crossed.

Tommy just gave a one shouldered shrug. His eyes slipped closed. "Distract me, Ollie. Tell me that about the assassin."

"Is this our pillow talk?" he chuckled.

Tommy gave an amused smirk. "These are pillows and we are talking. So I guess this is our pillow talk."

"Felicity's still working on Berrera's phone, but she managed to pull the last number dialled. Jade Dragon, it's a restaurant in China Town... and it just so happens to be a front for the Chinese Mafia."

"That's my girl."

"Your girl, huh?" Oliver teased. "What about me? I got the phone."

Tommy chuckled. "That's my buddy," he mock-patted his chest.

Oliver just shook his head at his drunken friend. "Made a reservation for two..."

He grinned. "It's a date!"

**X**

Tommy stared at the picture on Felicity's monitor in dumb confusion. Oliver had sent him a 9-1-1 text to get to the lair, he came as fast as he could, calling rain check on his late-lunch with Laurel. "I don't..." he shook his head.

"I'm going to take care of it, Tommy." Oliver promised. "I already called Lance; he'll be on the perimeter. I'll be inside and stop the Triad before they can get to your dad."

"Do you have any idea how they plan on-- on doing it?" Tommy questioned, turning his back on the monitor.

"If they contracted out like they did with Guillermo Berrera, then we have to assume they're catering to the assassin." Diggle said. "The Triad are too clever to just go into a crowded place like that and shoot the place up, hoping they hit their target. Likely, they’ll drive everyone outside, into the open, leaving your dad vulnerable, the assassin up high with a clear view of the front Merlyn Global. Even with his personal guard, Malcolm will be open and vulnerable out there."

Unable to sit still, Tommy stood and started to pace, one arm crossed over his chest, his other hand carding through his hair. "I know my dad's an asshole, but to hire a contract killer? Isn't that a little overkill and crazy."

"This is Starling City," Diggle said dryly. "It's where the crazy come, and all the crazy knows is overkill."

Tommy gave his head an internal shake; he needed to stop being hysterical and start being proactive. He stopped pacing and dropped his arms to his sides. He looked at Oliver, "I'm going."

"What? Tommy, no." Oliver shook his head. "It's too da--"

"He's my father!" Tommy shouted. "No matter what I told you on my birthday, it doesn't matter if I hate him or fear him. You said it yourself, Oliver... he's still my father." He took a breath. "You've just told me that my dad is the target of an assassination attempt and you just expect me to sit here. I don't think so." He gave his head a firm shake. "I'm going. Executive decision; I'm not even joking, Oliver." 

Oliver inhaled, seemed about to say something, and just exhaled instead, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'm the only one that can get in there and keep close to my father. You can't keep your eyes on the entire place, I'll be your eyes on the ground." Tommy reasoned. "We can be on comms."

"He's right, Oliver." Diggle said. "You need a second pair of eyes in there, and Merlyn's are better than none."

"Thanks," Tommy said sarcastically. "But I'll take it."

Oliver gave him a steady stare. "Okay. But we're taking precautions, no exception."

"Deal."

**...**

Before it all went down, Tommy stood among the front of the guests as his father gave his acceptance speech, a comm. in his ear, Kevlar on his chest, and hidden throwing knives on his person in case of emergency—and found himself thinking the same thing when Oliver had played drunk for the cameras at Robert's dedication ceremony all the those months back... masquerade.

The fire alarm set the night into motion. "It's happening!" Tommy called through his comm. He turned through the pushing crowd, looking for his father. His eyes widened as he saw the waiters. "It's the waiters, Oliver! They just killed the body guards. Dad!" he shouted.

And it just got like The Twilight Zone from there as Malcolm pulled him from the floor and up the staircase to the second floor. They were cut off in the hall by two automatic totting waiters, until Oliver repelled through the window, intercepting.

"I'll hold them off!" The Hood shouted at them. "Go! Now!"

Malcolm hesitated, seeming more intent on The Hood than actually escape.

"Come on!" Tommy grabbed his arm and darted across the hall toward the elevator. It had been years since he'd been in the building, but they'd gone over they blueprints in the lair. Malcolm keyed them into the elevator with steady hands.

"As soon as we get to the penthouse office, we'll be safe." Malcolm promised, a hand around the back of his shoulder, squeezing the junction of neck and shoulder.

"Dad, how are you so calm?" Tommy questioned. He understood what was happening, what was going on, had been expecting it—but his heart still fluttered with fear, his skin still beaded with sweat. "They're trying to kill us."

But before his dad could answer, outside the elevator were two of the Triad, guns pointed at the Merlyn men. There was a split second of frozenness and then Tommy instinct kicked in with a gun pointed in his face and Diggle's training kicked to the fore. Tommy managed to disarm his man, pistol whipping him; he moved for the second gunman, but Malcolm was already in movement.

He was as fast as Oliver in Hood-mode. Malcolm grabbed his gun arm, breaking it, and struck his throat, crushing the gunman's trachea; he chocked to death on the floor. But Malcolm didn't stop there; he grabbed the pistol-whipped man, twisted his arm behind and put him on his knees. The gun he'd gotten from the first man, poised at his head. It hadn't even been a minute of total action since stepping from the elevator.

There was a bang of the gun and Tommy flinched back a silent cry of horror as the body dropped with a thump into its own brain spatter.

" _Tommy? What was that?!"_ Oliver voice came desperately through his ear, his breath worked as he fought. " _Tommy! I heard a shot!"_

"You killed him." Tommy said. "W-why?"

"As surely as he would have killed you," Malcolm yanked him the short distance down the hall and into the penthouse, shutting the doors and activating the lock. "It's over," he said with conviction.

"How did you know how to do that?" Tommy demanded, unconsciously putting distance between them. "Fight... kill."

"Tommy, there is so much I need to show you." Tommy watched as slid aside a painting on the wall to reveal a keypad. He pressed his thumb to it. "So much you don't know..." He turned to Tommy. The wall _slid open_ behind him.

"Dad...?" Tommy started in confusion, his gaze drifting passed his father.

But then Tommy glimpsed something that stole the breath from his lungs, froze the blood in his body. But he didn't have time to process or contemplate or _understand_ before the glass windows were exploding and he was knocked to the floor along with his father.

"Dad?" Tommy pushed himself up with his forearms among the broken glass. With a hand on the pillar in front of him, he got to his feet.

"Tommy." Malcolm climbed to his feet, a thin trickle of blood from his hairline. "You okay?" he reached out an arm.

Tommy went to step forward when there was suddenly successive impact sounds and Tommy shouted in horror as his dad dropped. "Dad!" pressing himself briefly to the column, he dashed from safety, grabbed Malcolm's arms and dragged his father from view of the window and to safety. "Oliver!" Tommy dropped to his knees, and tore his father's shirt open—and stopped short. He was wearing a vest. "Felicity?" he tried, but still got no response. He reached for his ear and cursed, the earwig must have gotten knocked out when he fell.

"It's okay." Malcolm said.

Tommy sucked in a sharp breath. "You were shot, dad. You scared me," he admitted. He quickly grabbed the med bag from under the side table.

"Just a scra--"

Tommy looked up from the bag to see his dad passed out on the floor. Tommy pressed his finger's to Malcolm's throat, there was a pulse, but it was too sluggish for his liking. He pulled out his throwing knife and cut away Malcolm's jacket and shirt around his shoulder, un-Velcroing the strap to his vest. There was blood, but it didn't seem to be enough to make his father pass out. He cleared away the blood but only found a graze.

He stared, thinking rapidly. Could the shots to his chest have broken some ribs and punctured a lung? It was possible, but his current breathing pattern didn't fit. He remembered another graze and a sudden loss of consciousness. But Oliver had been hit with a Deadshot Specialty; The Hood had put an arrow in his eye when Diggle had been shot as well. Surely, the man could not still be alive. But Tommy could think of no other alternative, poison was coursing through his father right now and he didn't have the special island herbs.

Tommy dug through the med kit, trying to think. They hadn't really covered poisoning yet, at least not poisons like curare; but as he picked up a tangle of intravenous tubing, it struck him. Basic physics. If you add more liquid to a tainted batch and you can dilute the poison. He had the idea, now he needed to work fast.

**...**

Tommy was let into the room after they finished his father's treatment. With Malcolm still unconscious, all he had time to do was think—yet he kept spinning his wheels. He hadn't been in contact with anybody since he lost comms. in the penthouse and he wasn't sure that was a good thing or not.

"Tommy," Malcolm grunted into awareness.

"I'm here." Tommy stepped to his bedside. "You were shot, the bullet was poisoned. Take it easy."

"I should be dead," he said in confusion.

"It was a close call." Tommy admitted. "But I gave you a blood transfusion and it gave you enough time to get to the hospital."

Malcolm stared at him. "Your full of surprises, son. First disarming the waiter and now this."

"I could say the same." Tommy replied. "Dad--"

Malcolm reached out for his hand and pulled. "Sit."

Tommy did on the edge of the bed. "I thought I was going to lose you."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You said that after mom died." Tommy looked away.

"I wasn't a good father to you after your mom." Malcolm said. "I was lost."

Tommy's eyes flickered and he turned back to his father. "You never told me where you went. Is that where you learned to fight like that?"

"And I think its finally time I tell you." He squeezed Tommy hand. "I found myself in a place called Nanda Parbat. I met a man there. He helped me make sense of things, helped me find a purpose for my life and make this city a better place for everyone. Especially for you."

Tommy's chest tightened, trying to fit the puzzle pieces together. What his father was saying now, what he sure he saw back in the penthouse; but there were still too many pieces missing, the picture wasn't making sense.

"Malcolm." Moira said from the doorway.

"Tommy, can you give us a minute?" Malcolm said, not taking his eyes off of Moira.

Tommy looked between the two before giving a short nod. "Sure," he said slowly. He stood, distracted, pressed a kiss to his father's hair and one to Moira's cheek—and stepped out into the hall.

"Tommy!" Oliver called quietly, quickly closing the distance down the hall. Tommy met him a short distance from his father's room. "Are you alright? I got caught up in the fighting. When we couldn't reach you over comms. I saw you get into the ambulance..."

"I'm alright. Dad's going to be fine, too. But, Oliver," he shot a look around and leaned in. "It was curare laced bullets."

"Deadshot?" Oliver shook his head. "I killed him."

"I know you think you did, but did you hear about the police ever recovering the body?"

"I put an arrow in through his _eye,_ Tommy!" Oliver said.

"Nobody else uses that MO." Tommy persisted.

Oliver sighed and ran a hand over his hair. "If you're right, Diggle's not going to be happy." He searched Tommy's face with a concerned brow. "That's not all, is it?"

"Oliver..." but he didn't know what else to say, where to even begin. So he just ripped off the Band-Aid and whispered the thought that had been haunting him for hours now—the terrible glimpse he had caught before Malcolm was shot: "I think my dad's The Dark Archer."

_f_

**aRROW**

 

**Author's Note:**

> _A little different with Tommy already knowing, huh? And with Tommy getting a glimpse of The Dark Archer outfit, things are definitely going to go a little different this time around._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>   **DELETED TEXT:**  
>  "So what they say is really true... distance makes the heart fonder."  
> ...  
> He felt Oliver's strong hand pushing him into chair. "I'm sorry, Tommy, but it's true."  
> He ran shaky fingers through his hair. "Who would want to kill my father?"  
> "Your dad's a businessman," Diggle said. "He definitely will have made enemies."  
> "Enemy enough to hire an assassin?" Tommy turned to the bodyguard, tearing his eyes from the picture, it made easier when Felicity blackened the monitor. "My dad's an asshole, but..." he just couldn't seem to process it.  
> "It's going to be okay, Tommy." Felicity squeezed his arm. Oliver already called Det. Lance, the police will keep the perimeter. And the Hood will be inside."  
> "I have the best chance of sticking close to my dad without anything looking amiss."  
> ...  
> "Tommy, you can't go outside."  
> "Bu--"  
> "Tommy!" Malcolm grabbed him.  
> "Dad."  
> "Come on. Upstairs. It's not safe down here." And Malcolm pulled him through the crowd toward the staircase.  
> "We're going up (?)." Tommy repeated, rushing with his father.  
> "I'll hold them off!" The Hood shouted. "Go!"  
> Malcolm hesitated, but Tommy didn't. "Come on, dad!" he grabbed his dad's arm and pulled him down the hall towards the elevator.  
> ...  
> "Oliver..." but he didn't know what else to say, so he didn't.


End file.
